Five Times Santana had Gay Panic
by thefantasmickah
Summary: Five times Santana has had a "gay panic" moment, hurting Brittany. And the one time Brittany has had one, devastating Santana.


_**Disclaimer: **I don't own Glee. Or the characters from it._

* * *

1. They were eight the first time that Santana hurt Brittany. She didn't hurt her physically; she would sooner hurt herself than that. Noah Puckerman had called Santana gay on the playground because she kissed Brittany's scraped knee.

She exhaled sharply and faced Noah exclaiming that she was no such thing. He countered by saying that she loved Brittany which meant she was gay. Santana denied what he said as Brittany took off running. Santana scowled at Puckerman promising that he would get his as she sprinted after Brittany.

She calmed Brittany down with a kiss on the cheek and a poke in the side. When Brittany asked her, "If I only want to be your friend forever and we love each other, does that make us gay?" The word was foreign on her lips. Santana didn't have the heart to answer.

* * *

2. They were ten the next time it happened. The girls were lying next to each other in the hammock in Brittany's backyard when Brittany flipped over on her stomach, face close to Santana's as they shook from the force of her momentum. Brittany propped her face up with her arm as she looked deep into Santana's eyes.

Santana gulped and croaked out, "What are you doing, B?" The near proximity of Brittany was making her flutter and shake all at the same time.

"Looking," Brittany replied softly, her hand ran through Santana's loose hair.

"At what?" Santana shuddered and propped herself up as well, Brittany moved back to give her room.

"At you. You're so beautiful, you know that?"

Santana blushed deeply and averted her eyes from Brittany's inquiring ones. "Oh." Brittany leaned down so that their lips grazed, "What are you doing?" Santana hardly breathed as she spoke.

"Kissing you," Brittany said simply, as if that were a good enough answer.

"Friends don't kiss, Brittany," Santana told her, trying to sound firm.

"But we're so much more than that," Brittany said, eyes twinkling.

"We are?" questioned Santana.

Hurt filled Brittany's eyes at Santana's question. She blinked it away and replaced it with a small smile, "Of course, silly. We're best friends."

"Oh." Somewhere in the back of Brittany's mind that made logical sense, it didn't to Santana, but that was all she needed as Brittany settle her lips then her body on hers. "Oh."

* * *

3. It had become "a thing" for them to do. To Kiss. Santana set ground rules for them, mostly Brittany, to abide by. They would only do it while they were alone and under Santana's terms. Of course, rules were made to be broken, but only one part of the rule, the other maintained intact, for fear of what other people would say or do.

It was actually Brittany kissing Santana most of the time. Since they were ten the novelty still hadn't worn off. The kissing had only just started to turn into something more and Santana liked the development, but not what it meant. Brittany appeared to be none-the-wiser.

They were watching a movie, well, watching was relative. Their eyes were closed and they were laying on top of each other, kissing fiercely, movie long forgotten when they heard a gasp. Well, more like registered the large book bag dropping on the ground as Quinn entered the room. "What in the heck do the two of you think you're doing?" Quinn exclaimed as the other girls pulled apart, panting.

"Kissing. What else does it look like?" Brittany was genuinely confused; didn't Quinn know what kissing was?

"I can see that. But why? And—and, you're girls!"

"No, shit—" Santana was interrupted by a sharp, "Language!" emitted by Quinn.

"We're kissing because we're best friends." Brittany said, happy to be able to tell someone else about it.

"Look, Q. We're just practicing for boys, okay? Practicing." Santana glowered at the blonde still standing in the doorway.

"For boys?" Brittany turned to Santana with a look of what could only be described as sadness in her eyes.

"Yeah, Brit, for boys."

"But we're best friends?"

"Yeah, Brit, best _friends_."

They were thirteen.

* * *

4. It became "a thing" for others to see. They were the cheerleaders who sometimes kissed. No one suspected that they kissed outside of the party situation because Santana always made sure both she and Brittany had been seen with some sort of drink before kissing. And no one suspected that they did any more. Quinn might have had some inkling, but she had no firm evidence that they had done anything more than kiss since the first time she saw them.

It was only later on in the party when Santana had a reason to worry. She had lost sight of Brittany at some point when she stopped to talk to Quinn. The blonde girl was trying to start a Celibacy Club at McKinley. Santana couldn't tell if this was Quinn's idea or Mr. Fabray's, either way, Santana thought it was stupid and pointless.

Santana found Brittany talking to Puck and Finn, never a good combination. The Latina swiped Brittany's drink and took a whiff, "Ugh, Britt, I thought I told you no more alcohol."

Brittany leaned into Santana, arm wrapping around her waist, " I know, but Puck was so nice to give it to me." Her eyes glazed over and she found it difficult to look elsewhere.

"I bet he was," Santana glared at Puck as he shrugged, smirk affixed to his face.

"San?"

"Yeah, Britt?"

"Puck and Finn are best friends, right?"

"Duh, we are!" Puck slapped Finn on the back causing him to cough on his drink.

"Gross, Finn," Santana scowled, how Puck had ever become friends with the oaf, she'd never understand. "Britt," Santana said carefully, an idea where this was headed, "Puck and Finn are _friends_."

"Oh, okay," Brittany nodded, understanding. Santana breathed a sigh of relief and began to relax when Brittany spoke again, "So that means they don't have sex?"

This time Puck choked into his drink, eyes widening at the revelation, "No! We don't. I have sex with girls. I like having sex with girls."

"Oh, that's funny," Brittany exclaimed, lighting up, "So does Santana!"

Santana faltered and paled as Finn and Puck exchanged looks. Finn looked more confused than anything but Puck practically glowed with the information. "No, no you don't," Santana's voice was sharp and clear.

"San, I'm sor—" Brittany tried to speak but Santana silenced her with a look.

"We'll talk about his later, I have to do damage control." She turned towards the boys and pointed at Finn, "If you tell anyone about this then I'll let loose your little problem with the _mailman_." She glared at him until he nodded in submission. "And you," Puck was practically jumping in place, alcohol fueling his glee, "If you don't tell anyone, _ever_, then I will…" she leaned up and whispered in Puck's ear.

His smirk widened as he spoke, "Done."

"Good. Now Brittany, I want you to find Q and ask her to take you home. Finn, go with her and make sure she gets there."

"I'm sorry, S," Brittany frowned and moved to kiss Santana on the cheek as Santana moved to face her. Their lips met and Santana started in surprise.

"Just go, B. I'll talk to you later."

"Okay," Brittany looked down as Finn guided her towards Quinn.

The other cheerleader looked up and read the look on Santana's face as Puck led her up the stairs, hand affixed to her ass. She shook her head, understanding.

They were fifteen.

* * *

5. She stared at his large lips, swallowing thickly as she leaned down again, capturing them between hers. She pushed back the feeling of sickness that threatened to overwhelm her. _After this one,_ she thought, _after this one things will be better._ She lowered herself onto his chest, skin on skin, brunette on blonde. The _wrong_ blonde. She sighed, not in the fulfilled way that he took it, and kissed him again, each kiss taking her further and further away from what she was thinking. From the _right_ blonde.

She looked at him deeply after, her eyes searching deep in his for something, anything. Mollified by what she saw, she let her hand linger on his cheek as she stood up from the bed and began dressing. She glanced back at him before she reached the door, he was propped up on his elbow, sheet pooling around his torso, abs glistening. His lips took a downturn as he spoke, barely audible, "Santana?"

He sounded like a little boy and she almost wanted to go back to the bed and hug him. It would be so much easier if she could. "I have to go." Her hand rested on the moulding surrounding the door, "Goodbye, Sam." She left the room, closing the door behind her with a slight click.

The next time Santana saw Brittany she felt the need to go up to her and apologize. The look in Brittany's eyes was enough to colour Santana with remorse. Brittany was still with Artie and nothing had changed, "You're my best-friend, Santana."

Santana nodded dumbly, walking away from the blonde before she did anything else to damage their relationship.

Brittany was turning seventeen in one week.

* * *

6. It wasn't something they readily talked about, the times that Santana disappointed Brittany and Brittany gave her another chance.

Brittany kept notches, of everyone she had used, on her bed. She could remember each one. When and where it happened. How long it lasted. Sometimes she forgot the last half of the alphabet, but she wasn't likely to forget those memories anytime soon.

The first notch was the only one she cared about. That notch was the only one that signified a time she wanted to remember. The others were just times she should have been with her best friend, but Brittany was taking the time being too good of a _friend_ to Santana that she let the Latina's fears take hold, and she honoured them, no matter how much it hurt herself.

She hadn't spoken to Santana in two weeks and she found that she was able to breathe easier because of her absence. Her life appeared to be going more smoothly without Santana's presence and it was liberating.

She finally saw the other girl in the hallway, leaning up against some lockers, looking at the passersby with what could only be described as distain. "I can't be her any more," Brittany spoke softly to Santana, gaining her attention.

"You can't be who?" Santana's voice was rough from disuse.

"Your best friend." Her words were simple but her meaning was deep. "It hurts too much. It takes too much, and I can't."

Santana sighed and looked at the blonde girl in front of her, "But I love you," her dark eyes glistened.

"And I wish that were still enough." Brittany didn't miss that this was the first time either of them had put their feelings into the specific words. "I can't," she voiced as she touched the brunette's cheek, fingers tracing Santana's lips, "I can't." She let her hand fall back to her side as she turned from the other girl and walked away into the throng of people. She could hear the sound of Santana slumping against the locker and crumpling to the ground over the bustle of the hallway.

They were eighteen.


End file.
